


Good Vibrations

by lookingforthestars



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Early Relationship, Early season 3, F/M, Massage chair sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforthestars/pseuds/lookingforthestars
Summary: A lightbulb goes off, and when Amy drops her lips to his neck, pressing hot kisses against his stubble and making him pretty sure of where this is all going, he takes his shot. “Have you ever had sex in a massage chair?”
Relationships: Jake Peralta & Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	Good Vibrations

**Author's Note:**

> It has been A WHILE since I've written smut, so man, I hope this turned out okay. Thanks in advance for reading.
> 
> I was watching a recent interview with Andy Samberg and he's got that post-Big House scruff and guys. He looks so good. He's definitely getting hotter as he gets older, right?

If Jake had, as recently as a few days ago, listed his top five turn-ons, he’s pretty sure “Amy Santiago lecturing him as she empties out his mail tub” wouldn’t have made the cut.

Which was clearly wrong, because he swears he’s never been more attracted to her as she tears open an envelope with an actual letter opener that she brought from her apartment (Jake secretly thinks it looks kind of badass; it’s basically a tiny mail dagger) and scans it, lips pursed and brows furrowed. “Oh my god, Jake! Is this really how much you spent on _one_ massage chair?”

He assumes from her scandalized tone that it’s a bill, and leans over to confirm it. “To be fair, that’s the most expensive one.”

“It should be the only one! Do you even use all six? I am honestly in awe of your decision making.”

He knows it’s not a compliment, but he grins and says, “Thanks,” just to rile her up. It works.

“You’re an idiot,” Amy says, dead serious. She definitely means it, and she’s not wrong. But her lectures never feel too biting, somehow — maybe it’s the undercurrent of affectionate exasperation that’s always there, or maybe it’s the fact that she’s in his apartment and no matter how much she complains about the state of his personal space, she never leaves. As far as Jake is concerned, she’s welcome to say whatever she wants as long as she’s _there_ for him to hear it _._

She stretches out her bare legs, the hem of his old academy shirt splaying across her thighs, and he misses a lot of what she says after that. He can’t help it if she utterly blows his mind just by existing, by being his _girlfriend_ and wearing his clothes and looking very cute and determined as she sorts through two years of postage.

Jake knows he’s busted when Amy kicks his shin with one foot, which doesn’t hurt at this angle but does startle him out of his stupor. “Huh?” he asks dumbly, tearing his focus away from her legs to meet her amused expression.

“I _said_ , you need to choose a massage chair. We’re selling the rest on eBay to pay down your ‘crushing debt,’” she explains, using her free hand to form air quotes.

“But Amesss,” Jake whines. “They’re all different! How could I choose? That’s literally Sophie’s Choice.”

“Have you ever read or seen Sophie’s Choice?”

“I think you know I haven’t.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know, I could give you massages.”

That image breaks through to Jake’s distracted mind and he nods fervently, suddenly fully on board with this idea. “Never mind, that’s way better, you’re a genius.”

Amy tries to hide her smile, but he knows her too well. Praise is her weakness, and Jake is only too happy to fluster her with endless compliments about how incredible he thinks she is.

And she is. Incredible. It kind of freaks him out how much, sometimes. He keeps waiting for her to realize that he’s a dysfunctional man-child, someone to have fun with but not fall in love with. Sophia knew it, and as much as he doesn’t really want to think about his ex right now, it’s hard not to — she’s his only frame of reference for a serious adult relationship.

He and Amy have been together for less than a month, but he already knows he can’t let it end like that with her.

“Hey,” he says more quietly, dropping the theatrics for a moment. He drapes his fingers over her ankle, rubbing lightly with his thumb. “Thanks for doing this. I know it’s a lot of work.” The way it comes out, he knows it sounds like he’s talking about more than the mail. Maybe he is.

Jake doesn’t know what reaction he’s expecting, but it’s not for Amy to scoff like he’s said something interminably stupid. “Are you kidding? I’ve been dying to organize your apartment for years, Jake. This is way better than reorganizing my tab collection for the twelfth time.”

He laughs, and it’s only a little bit at how much of a nerd his girlfriend is. Mostly he just feels relieved, because whenever he starts to spiral, Amy finds a way to remind him how _good_ they are together. Friends, partners, dating, whatever…they work. This works.

“Well I don’t have a tab collection because I’m not a serial killer, but you can organize my DVDs,” he offers.

“So, just put the Die Hard movies in order then?”

“Hey! I have other movies.”

“Right, I haven’t forgotten the Taylor Swift concert specials.” Amy gestures with the letter opener before tearing open another envelope. “Don’t worry, I’ll tackle your DVDs on Tuesday.”

“Oh my god, you have my apartment scheduled, don’t you? Is there a calendar?”

A blush spreads over her cheeks almost instantaneously. “Uh…no?”

He holds a hand over his chest, feigning hurt, because teasing Amy is one of his all-time favorite hobbies. “Is that all I am to you, Santiago? A project?”

She knows she’s caught, so she just shrugs, quirking one eyebrow seductively. “What can I say? Organize ‘em and leave ‘em, that’s my motto.”

“You tab temptress.”

Amy bites her lip to stifle a giggle, and he’s so into her, it’s insane. Jake barely thinks about it before he’s leaning in to kiss her, and she quickly tucks her legs underneath her so the position won’t be so awkward. When he pulls back, she’s smiling warmly at him and affection floods his chest and tightens around his heart. He’s pretty sure he’ll never get tired of Amy looking at him like that.

She turns pink under his appreciative gaze and sweeps her hair behind both ears, and suddenly it feels impossible not to kiss her again, so he does. Her hands cup his jaw, thumbs swiping over his cheekbones, and Jake is about ninety-two percent sure he’s already in love with Amy Santiago.

Amy shifts to straddle his lap, his mail quickly forgotten, and he’s never been more grateful for lazy weekends at home than when she pulls gently at his bottom lip with her teeth. He’s willing to bet at least one of his massage chairs that all this organization got her going, and hell, it’s working for him too.

A lightbulb goes off, and when Amy drops her lips to his neck, pressing hot kisses against his stubble and making him pretty sure of where this is all going, he takes his shot. “Have you ever had sex in a massage chair?”

He’s made offhand comments like this to her for years, but he never meant it. (Well, maybe he meant it a little, but she doesn’t know that.) She always brushed it off as a joke, and while she could still do that now, she could also say _yes_. And god, if that isn’t the craziest and best thing that has ever happened to Jake.

She hums in thought, the vibrations running through his skin and making him shudder. “I’m down to try it.”

Jake’s brain does a fist pump. For half a second, he considers the logistics of lifting Amy in his arms while he stands up before remembering that he lacks Terry-level strength. “Carry me to the living room, Amy,” he says in a breathless voice picked up from many a romantic comedy. She shoves his shoulder and climbs off of him, holding her hand out to help him up.

Amy is a better multitasker than he is, so she guides them through the hallway while he kisses her cheek and jaw and shoulder, his hands roaming freely over her body. She looks so much better in his clothes than he ever would, and the absence of pants is a bonus for their current situation.

“Pick one, Jake,” she whispers in his ear, and he would sell every single item in his apartment — Die Hard memorabilia included — if she asked him in that voice. Jake zeroes in on his favorite, which also happens to be the widest and therefore the most conducive to their impending activities. Amy seems a little surprised when he spins them around and drops her (a little unceremoniously) into the chair, but her confusion gives way to a sultry grin when he gets on his knees in front of her.

Jake digs the remote out of the side pocket, wondering distantly how old the bag of Doritos next to it is, and turns the vibration onto the lowest setting. Amy sighs and sinks into the chair as it rolls against her back, letting her legs fall open to make space for Jake.

“Good?” he asks, smirking as she hums contentedly, her eyes slipping shut. Jake’s afraid this might backfire, since Amy looks so relaxed she might fall asleep halfway through the act. But the quiet moan she lets out when he presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh, lips dragging slowly upward, solidifies that she is still very much into this.

Amy’s skin is always warm, which Jake finds simultaneously very sexy and very amusing, because the woman herself is always, always cold. She tangles a hand in his hair, threading her fingers through the messy curls, and it feels so amazing that he wonders — not for the first or last time — if he got injured in the line of duty and this has all been an extended hallucination.

He swipes his index finger lightly over her light blue boy shorts, pleased at her sharp intake of breath. She’s even more responsive than usual, which he chalks up to his (brilliant, amazing) massage chair plan working perfectly. “You’re wet, Ames,” Jake murmurs, pressing against her harder with two fingers.

She nods, shifting her hips to create more friction. “Feels good,” Amy sighs. “But it would feel better if you took my underwear off.”

When he looks up at his girlfriend, her face is flushed and she’s smirking at him, and he’s suddenly a lot harder than he feels like he should be at this stage in the process. He takes a second to decide how much he wants to tease her today, before deciding that he’s as impatient as she is and complying with her request. Amy lifts her hips to help as Jake hooks his thumbs around the waistband of her panties and slides them down her legs.

There’s a significant probability that they’re about to ruin this expensive chair, and Jake does not care in the slightest.

Before he can return to his original position, Amy yanks him up by his arms so he’s facing her, and kisses him hard. Her tongue teases his lips, her hands gripping his hair again, and he lets her in fully. Willingly. Jake can’t think of a single thing he wouldn’t give Amy, if it was in his control. Maybe even if it wasn’t.

Kissing Amy is like riding a rollercoaster. It’s breathless and thrilling, but the fear is contained. He knows he’s safe with her; he’s known that since her third week at the Nine-Nine. It’s an addicting feeling, and the second he kissed her at the restaurant to maintain their cover, he just couldn’t fathom never getting to do it again.

Jake takes advantage of her distraction to glide one hand up her bare thigh and ease a finger inside her, smiling when she gasps against his mouth. The vibrations travel through his hand and flow into Amy, and it’s less than a minute before she’s grinding her body down onto his hand. “Fuck, Jake.”

He adds a second finger, rocking into her gently to avoid overwhelming her, letting her set the pace. His fingers are soaked, slipping in and out of her without much effort, and he can tell by her ragged breathing that she needs to pull away for air but she doesn’t. She keeps kissing him, taking only the oxygen she can get from him, and Jake swallows the little noises that fall from her throat as his thumb rubs circles against her clit.

He slips his free hand under her (his) shirt and thumbs her nipple, and that’s all it takes for Amy to sink her nails into the back of his neck and come. Jake keeps his fingers in place, rubbing at the spot that he knows will intensify her climax, until her breathing evens out and she collapses back into the chair, panting. “Holy shit, Jake. That was _great_.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m kind of mad it took you so long to suggest it.”

Jake shoots her a lopsided grin. “My bad. Do you have a binder for sex ideas? Because if you don’t, we should start one.”

Her eyes light up at the mention of a new binder, and Jake doesn’t understand how this office-supply-loving-nerd can also be the sexiest woman in the world. It makes no sense, and yet Amy confirms it when she wraps her legs around his waist and says, “We can do that after you fuck me.”

“Deal,” Jake responds, sounding embarrassingly breathless to his own ears. They switch positions — no small feat as Amy stands on shaky legs, which Jake notes with great smugness — and shed their remaining clothes before she straddles him, strong thighs bracketing his. She’s fucking gorgeous. If he is hallucinating, Jake will happily stay unconscious for all time.

Amy grabs a condom out of the side table and tears the wrapper, rolling it over him with practiced efficiency. She strokes him unhurriedly, kissing him deep and slow, which Jake knows without asking means she needs a little more time before she can take him. And as much as Jake loves being inside her ( _so much_ ), he will never complain about any of these moments in between. If he found out that Bruce Willis was his real father, he wouldn’t feel half as lucky as he does for getting to touch Amy.

After a minute she sinks onto him, pressing her lips to his sweetly before she starts to move. Every cell in his body is vibrating, and it heightens each touch of Amy’s fingers against his skin — over his jaw, his shoulders, his chest. Jake lets his hands explore similarly, committing to memory the way Amy shivers when he circles her nipples with calloused thumbs. “Your boobs are amazing, Ames.”

She laughs airily. “Yeah, I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Mm, yours are the best.”

“Sure, because they’re the ones you’re looking at right now.”

“Because they’re yours. And I like every part of you,” Jake murmurs almost reverently, craning his neck to kiss her. “A lot.”

She smiles down at him, skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat, and being able to spontaneously fuck this goddess at noon on a Saturday is just so far beyond anything Jake has ever or will ever imagine. “I like every part of you too, babe.”

There are other things that he wants to say — or, more accurately, things that he knows are true but are way too early to say — but Amy saves Jake from accidentally blurting out something stupid when she starts to ride him faster, clutching his shoulders for balance. He grips her perfect butt, pushing deeper into her and helping keep her stable. There’s no more teasing, just Amy whimpering his name and Jake groaning hers until she comes around him, not stopping the movement of her hips until he shudders underneath her.

Sex is more or less the only physical activity Jake gets, so it takes a while for him to catch his breath, but Amy doesn’t seem to mind as she rests bonelessly against his chest. “Whoa,” he hears her say, once the pounding of his heart is no longer deafening.

“Yeah. Whoa.” He drops a kiss to the side of her head, his arms wrapping around her bare back. “Better than a vibrator?”

“Close competition. We should definitely keep this one.”

Jake feels a pretty strong twinge of something at _we_ , at him and Amy making joint decisions about their living conditions. That would have sent him spiraling out a few years ago, but now it hints at a potential permanence with Amy that is more than okay with him.

“Should we have sex on all of them? In the name of experimentation?” he muses instead of dwelling too hard on more serious thoughts.

“No!” She leans back, smacking him lightly on his shoulder. “Jake, that will _destroy_ your resale value.”

But she’s smiling when she says it. And Jake’s pretty sure it would be worth it.


End file.
